i dream of sex, clothes, and music.

little bit of nerd/madonna swag for you guys.

my mind is consumed by thoughts of clothes. where i'm going to buy them next. how much i can spend without going broke. my new obsessions, which include a lionel ritchie tee that i found in a store in lincoln park. or the lego necklace that's only $20, also in said store. the black harem pants at H&M that i need in my life. 

i go to sleep thinking about sex, i wake up thinking about boys--which is a huge component of the sex part--and how my first time will be. how he'll look, how good it'll feel. when i'm daydreaming in class because my professor, who bears a strange resemblance to master roshi from dragonball z is droning, i'm still thinking about sex. i am so glad nobody can read my mind because when i space out, it's pretty much x-rated.

songs get stuck in my head, and then replaced by other songs. i always feel like there's a song to match my mood. the soundtrack of a moment in my life. in my head, i feel like i'm living out this movie that stars me. i am in my own little stupid molly ringwald movie, but this sadly isn't the eighties. 

is this bad?

should i feel guilty for loathing reality? should i feel bad for these things consuming my brain all the time? i often credit my crazy imagination for helping me see things differently sometimes, but i also feel like it hinders me from accepting the bitter taste of the real world. i honestly feel like i'm way too complex for anyone to understand, but then again, who said being an intellectual was a crime? is it wrong to think deeply about something simple? is it wrong to analyze stuff? it is weird to find yourself wondering if anyone out there thinks the same way as you?

A$$

* top: H&M

* maxi skirt: H&M

*rings: (white) H&M (stone) Forever 21

* earrings: don't remember

* necklace: Forever 21 (from my Cali trip!)

* boots: Forever 21

working for one week today, and then hightailing it the fuck back to the crib. 

lemme step on a proverbial soapbox for one second: i am aware that i have a big ass. my friends point it out all the time. so does my mom. i get it. and whenever i wear something tight, they don't hesitate to point it out. and while i am proud of my round derriere, which is all natural, and which was acquired by doing absolutely NOTHING on my part--one of my friends asked if do squats, to which i quickly replied no--i feel like people automatically think you're a whore if your ass is always poking out.

i can't help that my ass is big, and i don't think i should have to wear baggy jeans just so others won't assume that i'm a skank. i'm completely aware that girls who wear tight shit are automatically seen as whores, which is why i try to balance what i wear: if i'm wearing something tight on top, i'll have on a loose bottom, and vice versa. its about playing with extremes so you don't look too sexy or too plain. i like dressing the way i do--which i don't think is slutty at all, and i think it's stupid that people judge you because of your body type. i can't help that i have a fat ass. if i was skinny, no one would even make these comments.

*steps off soapbox

wait, i just realized this:

ASSume. hehe.

dota

Shots I took after work on Thursday. Let me tell you, short shorts are the quickest way to get a guy's attention. Even if most of those guys are unattractive, smell bad because they work outside, and have at least one kid and/or a crazy baby momma. Geez, why couldn't sexy guys work at my job? The only people who hit on me are either fat, ugly, thuggish, and completely out of my league. Just once, I'd like for a really cute, really classy guy named Nick or Ryan to approach me.

Anyways, the 'I'm pissed the hell awwf-ness' aside, I got the boots from Forever 21. Saw them through the window, and my jaw dropped. They're the perfect folky boots I've been searching for. Top is from Urban Outfitters, which I scored for just $5. Go sales!

Oh, and the title is from this Basshunter song called 'DotA.' It's Euro-trash dance music, but I must admit, this song is catchy. And dare I say it, that Swedish meatball Basshunter is pretty hot...

tenderoni

I got a job finally. Normally, I feel like dressing even remotely cute constitutes the Wocka Flocka clones at my workplace ogling you and asking you for numbers they don't even deserve. (Some of them have kids.) Then I realized that they'll ogle you regardless. Seriously. Guys will hit on you even if you have dog shit smeared on your face. Not really sure that anyone would ever have dog shit smeared on their faces, but still.

****************************BREAKING FOOTWEAR NEWS***************************

They have come.

I ordered them weeks ago, and I feared the worst.

Maybe they just forgot about little old me. . .

Maybe they're withholding my order because they know I'm black and they're racist.

Or they ran out and didn't tell me?

But a lady told me that they were finally going to be shipped because they had run out and then re-shipped. Awesome business, right?

WRONG.

I get them bitches, and they don't even fit.

They were too roomy.

I thought, damn it. Just my fucking luck.

So I sent them back.

And I was very hurt.

Because I loved those shoes. I thought they loved me back.

But then......GASP!

They sent me another pair. . .

and by George, they fit!!!

I love them!!







Other things on my list?



Now let's just hope I can get some of that out of the way! Oh, and I forgot to put sequined leggings on the list. Argh. Whatever, I just know I need them. Badly. Like a Tripp NYC sweater or jeans. Or like a Fall Out Boy and a Panic! At the Disco t-shirt and poster. I'm rambling now.

By the way, did anybody hear Kele Okereke's new song? He's the lead singer of Bloc Party, and he just went solo. I love "Tenderoni!"

best way to get rid of ACNE? pro-activ.

There have been a ton of fads lately that seriously make my eyebrow twitch out of disgust. There was the period back in my shantytown of a high school where girls decided that ill-fitting plaid shorts were a trend. Then came the fake designer (points if its Louis Vuitton) toolbelt-cum-fannypacks. There was even a gleaming moment where pajama pants, the epitome of "I don't give a fuck" style was lauded by the school populace. Who needs fashion when you've got Spongebob plastered all over your legs?

But now that I've gotten into fashion blogging, I notice that there's always that coveted piece that pops up on every single blog. From the Balenciaga suede oxfords to the Forever 21 cross ring that vanished from existence as soon as it was made the 'it' thing to have. (Seriously, they're being sold on eBay for at least ten times what they're worth.)

This is what's really irking me at the moment. These butt ugly shoes with a surprisingly fitting name, meaning that they must be extinguished from existence.



WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. SO. SPECIAL. ABOUT. THESE. SHOES.

Ok, they have a mirror-ish sole. Ok, they're black. Ok, they're wedges. But they look so damn big and bulky, like they weigh a good ten pounds. There is absolutely nothing special about these stupid, overpriced designer shoes. And as if that wasn't bad enough. . .



A brown lining at the bottom. Seriously, I rest my case. NEXT!